


a reckoning

by ninemoons42



Series: Dragon Age Inquisition - Kiriya - Original Flavor [18]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Issues, Family Reunions, Male-Female Friendship, Mood Whiplash, Sister-Sister Relationship, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiriya Trevelyan and her sisters face off against their father, and the fate of a Thedosian house hangs in their hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The main narrative thread in this fic stems from information revealed in [don't look back again](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4770740) and [kith and kin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4958578); please read those first.

A burst of music and polite tittering laughter, impolite glances and rude gestures of fan and mask and goblet: and Cullen just barely resisted the urge to put a hand on his sword. No duels on the schedule today, much less any other kind of fight -- still, he wanted to hunch over. It wasn’t the first time he’d wished he could hide beneath a cloak. He might’ve been able to stomach something in bright red, something in bright copper, as long as no one threw a second glance at the face in the hood -- 

Silverflash out of the corner of his eye, a rapid movement of sharp edge, there and gone again, and the voice that spoke from very close by only sounded amused. “I know they’re not looking at me and yet I think they are. I -- I’m too used to being out on my own.”

“Away from cities,” he said, nodding. He clasped Kiriya’s hand tightly. “Away from too -- many -- people.”

“Yes.”

And he watched her shoulders move, up and down, convulsive, as though wanting to hide: and he stopped feeling sorry for himself almost immediately. Wanted instead to walk before Kiriya and help her hide her face from the staring eyes. Too many ornate robes and fripperies and too many masks, and all of them focused on her: the woman who wore a left-hand glove and not a right-hand one.

“Word of advice, Steel, this is how you do it: grit your teeth and pretend to smile,” Varric muttered. Cullen almost envied him his carelessness, because the dwarf was openly fingering his crossbow while cutting his eyes every which way. He wished he could do something like that with his sword. Wished he could do more to protect Kiriya. What were they doing in Val Royeaux again? Why had written orders become insufficient to procure new supplies and new materiel for Skyhold? That was just the way he’d conducted business for a long time -- but now here he was looking for the actual warehouses and merchant coffeeshops and he was going to have words, stern words, with both Leliana and Josephine, just as soon as they all made it back to Skyhold -- 

Shadows flitting about overhead -- he stopped by Kiriya’s side as she craned her neck and peered up at the blue sky and the great fluff-bellied sailing clouds -- something atop a nearby spire, nearly familiar -- 

“Is that a hat?” Varric asked, squinting.

“It’s Cole,” Kiriya said, and Cullen watched her smile, suddenly -- a real smile, something bright and unaffected, the misery in the lines of her face falling away as she waved.

Cullen’s heart was very nearly in his throat as he watched the distant shape of Cole return the wave, and gracefully, slowly -- 

Step off the very tip of the spire.

Flower petals falling with him.

And his worn boots falling lightly, soundlessly, weightlessly to the ground -- landing in a graceful crouch right at Kiriya’s feet. Flowers tucked into the moth-eaten band of his hat, throwing off a cheerful bright scent. “Hello,” Cole said, mouth curved into something very nearly like a smile.

Cullen shook his head a little, and clasped his shoulder. “I should have known you wouldn’t be afraid of a leap like that. How do you do it?”

“How do I do what? Falling? But it’s easy. Just -- think of flying. The way you fly when you look at -- ” And here Cole nodded in Kiriya’s direction.

He smiled and nodded and met Varric’s knowing gaze.

“At least one of us is having a good time,” Kiriya said, and beckoned Cole closer. “I bought you something.”

“I don’t have anything to give you in return.” The sudden perplexed look in Cole’s eyes made Cullen want to hide a smile. 

“You’ve saved my life a few times, I think that’s more than enough, isn’t it? And Cullen helped me picked it out.” A small white box dangling from a bright green ribbon. 

Crooked fingers, carefully opening. Cole blinked and looked even more mystified. “Little cakes. Frilly. You got me cakes? But _you_ eat cakes. Not me.”

A soft snort of a laugh from Varric. “Which means she got you a particularly important gift. You know how she is with the sweet things. She’d have kept them all for herself, but she loves you so much she’s giving you a half-dozen of your own.”

“Low blow,” Kiriya said, trying to look stern and utterly failing -- and the pretend frown dropped off her face completely when Cole suddenly stepped forward and put his arms around her shoulders. “Oh, Cole. You’re welcome. I hope you like the flavors we chose.”

And Cullen smiled when Cole broke away from Kiriya and approached him. “You. And her. You got me a gift. Something to try. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he said, patting Cole’s shoulder. 

“Have a flower,” Cole said, next.

And he smiled, and took one of the brilliantly flowering blooms from Cole’s hat. “Fair trade, I’d say.”

A flash of crooked teeth in an exultant smile, and then Cole was tugging Varric away, babbling about a fountain and a sunbeam and birds he could share the sweet crumbs with.

And for a moment Cullen was alone on a Val Royeaux street with the woman he loved -- their shadows melding into one on the scrubbed cobblestones. 

Brief flash of playfulness in Kiriya’s dark eyes. “I can pin that flower in your surcoat, if you’d like -- or tuck it behind your ear.”

Cullen chuckled softly, and brushed the petals -- creamy pale yellow tipped in brilliant carmine -- against her cheek, against the line of her jaw and the scars that crisscrossed her bared forearms, before depositing the flower carefully into her cupped hands. “Pretty as it is, I think you outshine it by far.”

“Why, such sweet words -- I’d almost think you’d come a-courting,” Kiriya laughed while tucking the flower into one of her belts. 

“Do we have time for that? For me to sweet-talk you?” With only her for an audience he could feel emboldened, he could tease -- and his reward was darker color in her dark cheeks, and he bent to her, carefully, the sidewalks and the gawkers melting noiselessly away --

Flutter and flash of black feathers in his vision. A hoarse harsh cry. A gray wing and a black one, a squawk of a landing on a nearby stone ledge -- 

Kiriya. She was so close he could smell the flower he’d given her, but she was already rigid beneath his hands. “That bird. It’s one of ours.” 

Cullen tried to remember what Leliana had named the blasted thing, failed, and instead settled for taking the tight roll of paper from where it was tied to a clawed foot. “Kiriya,” he said, offering her the message.

She shook her head, brief and tight movement. Her lips compressed into a thin line. 

He gritted his teeth and cracked the seal on the message open. Leliana’s handwriting, still graceful, but the note was blotted with ink in some places -- she’d been hasty with this one and as soon as he read the words he knew why.

_Come back at once. Bann Trevelyan sighted in Ferelden, three days’ ride from Amaranthine. Expect him in the Frostbacks in several days’ time._

“It’s bad news, isn’t it,” Kiriya whispered after a moment.

“I wish I didn’t have to give you this message,” Cullen said.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when she took the message from his hand.

And he wished that there was something he could do about the lines that appeared in her face as she read: her eyebrows, the curve of her frown.

All he could do was take the hand she extended helplessly in his direction.

Footsteps, running, coming closer, and Kiriya balled up the message in her trembling fist -- then smoothed it out and gave it to a frowning Varric. “Sorry,” Cullen heard her say, “fun’s over.”

How he wished he could smile at the smear of pale green icing in the corner of Cole’s mouth.

Instead he was left to follow in the storm cloud of Kiriya’s wake, her heavy steps toward their inn and the shrill taunting of Leliana’s crow as it took wing after her.


	2. Chapter 2

Blanket-hems fluttering behind her as she paced across the rugs next to her bed. Here she was in her quarters. Here she was back in her _home_. Skyhold -- her fortress -- the place where she belonged, the place where she was needed, the place where those who loved her and those whom she loved had come to rest. 

And this place that she had finally come to see as her own was about to be invaded.

Kiriya could have dealt with demons and Venatori and rogue red Templars. She could have dealt with a dragon. Even now she knew that she’d fought and _bested_ one of those, with her friends instrumental in that victory, and nothing left of its great winged hulk but the scale that she’d pressed into Cullen’s hands. 

To deal with her father? Surely there was a way. Surely there were ten thousand ways. But they were none of them in her mind. 

Such a rage that prickled within her skin, that boiled along her nerves like a particularly violent storm. It burned enough that she’d barely felt the freezing winds whistling down from the Frostbacks -- it kept her from sleeping on the way back from Val Royeaux -- and the sickening part was, she’d felt this way before, and no amount of blankets wrapped around her body could protect her from those memories, could shelter her or comfort her.

Pacing through midnight corridors and past empty rooms. The strains of the Chant of Light and the murmurs of the laity. Grass beneath her feet and blank night skies overhead. Fearful and lonely and unmoored, tossed from one place to another, running and running from the Trevelyan family estate.

Curse that man! Curse his foolish bull head! Kiriya clenched her fists angrily and thought the blankets should give way. Angry. So angry. Not at herself. Not at her sisters. None of them were at fault. 

The fault was Bann Trevelyan’s alone.

Her pacing took her back to her mirror and the sight of her own bared teeth, the almost-visible heat in her cheeks, brought her up short. The wind that lanced in through the windows, sharp edges of threatening snow, ripped at her dark hair and sent wayward tendrils flying around her face. Bristling, bristling. Perhaps it was for the best that she’d thrown her armor and her knives onto her bed. Had she her weapons to hand the room that she stood in might even now be lying in slashed pieces -- 

A knock on the door. She had been expecting it. “Come,” she snapped.

She’d expected Cullen. Cole and Varric and Dorian and the Iron Bull. Cassandra. Perhaps even Leliana.

“Sister.” 

Kiriya spun on her heel and threw herself toward the door. Four worried faces. She couldn’t hold on to all of them, but she trusted them to hold on to her, and they pressed in around her. Her sisters. Katerinne and Marya and Yelena and Elisavet. 

“Bless your Sister Nightingale,” Katerinne said after a moment. “I had wondered as to why she wrote so voluminously. I had wondered about the sheer multitude of her crows and ravens. Now I can believe the stories the others tell of her. She knows everything, and for that we are grateful.”

“She spoke to you about the sighting,” Kiriya said as she led her sisters toward her desk. She swept aside piles of letters on pretty parchment as she looked for a bottle of something to drink.

“We were in the rookery when she wrote to you,” Elisavet said, and took a long gulp from the proffered bottle. 

“So. Plans.” Kiriya said, steepling her fingers. “We have time to think, and to seek advice. Surely we can all come up with something.”

“Lady Montilyet has told me that _that man_ has been writing to you, but in vain,” Marya said.

“He has. I explained the situation to Josephine when the first letters came, and we came to an arrangement. I deal with the Free Marches through Kirkwall in any case; the word eventually travels to Ostwick.”

“What is he thinking,” Yelena exclaimed, softly. “How could he set out on such a useless errand when it is his _duty_ to care for our home?”

“And he used to boast about that duty, too,” Kiriya muttered. “Self-aggrandizing speeches and self-important nonsense.”

“He is foolish, we can all agree on that -- but he won’t be traveling alone, and we must suspect trouble from his companions, too,” Elisavet said after a moment.

Kiriya frowned. “Yes. Templars and clerics alike.” A pause. “Will you stand with me when he comes?”

“There is no need for you to ask,” Katerinne said. 

“There is another thing,” Marya said. “Sister. Kiriya. What has he demanded of you, precisely?”

Kiriya gestured for the bottle. “That I present myself to him in Ostwick, or in a place of his choosing.” She scoffed. “There is no doubt in my mind that he would have me kneel to him.”

Disgust and dismay on her sisters’ faces, and Kiriya hurriedly passed the bottle around.

“Did you have something in mind?” she added, nodding at Marya.

Who pointed to her throat in response.

Katerinne’s eyebrows immediately drew together in concern. “You would have that story come out, finally.”

“It has never been a secret. But now I would have Thedas hear that story and know it for truth. I would have it known that _that man_ is no father of mine.”

“Nor to any of us,” Kiriya said, and shuddered.

“The words of the Chant are only in his mouth and not in his heart. I have written to some of my brothers and sisters to send us their accounts of what happened to me,” Marya said, “and I asked Sister Leliana for her fastest birds. I hope to receive some responses soon.”

“That will be helpful,” Kiriya said.

“I would also testify as to you,” Elisavet said. “If it were needed. You of course have such a distinguished group of companions standing with you.”

Kiriya managed a smile, and reached out for her hand. “Your words will carry as much weight as theirs. I would only be the first to tell you that.”

Elisavet, too, cracked a small smile. “Would your opinion change if I told you that I had perhaps spoken some _strong_ words to your Commander?”

Yelena actually laughed, softly. “ _Ill-advised_ is the word I’d have used.”

Kiriya raised an eyebrow. “What did you tell Cullen, exactly?”

“I said that if he ever hurt you in any way I’d castrate him. With a dull blade.”

“And what did he say?” She leaned forward.

“He nodded and said that it was the least of the punishments that would be visited upon him.”

“Wise of him to have said that,” Katerinne said as she drained the bottle, “because the tavern was full of Inquisition soldiers, not to mention the table full of your companions.”

Kiriya watched Marya cover a smile with her hand, and took a deep breath. The rage was still there, crackling and prickling and fiery, but here she could let it burn.

She’d use it soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Cold eyes and cold light and the lightning-flash scent of snow on the air. Cold whispering and cold smiles and icy calculation in Leliana’s eyes as she took her place on the other side of the Inquisitor’s throne from Josephine. 

Cold, too, Cassandra’s voice. Cullen knew her when she smiled and when she was reading and when she was quietly talking about matters of great importance. But in the here and now, as she spoke the few words of introduction, he wondered that he couldn’t see icicles forming on his hands, on the scabbard of his sword, as she made her customary announcement:

“You have come seeking Kiriya Trevelyan, the Herald of Andraste, the leader of the Inquisition. Who are you that I might present you to her?”

Josephine’s voice. Not just sweet as usual. Cullen stole a glance around at the men and women standing at attention around him, clustered at the back of the hall, and knew he wasn’t the only one to hear the knife-edge hidden in her words. “I wish to present to the Inquisitor a -- a most unusual visitor. Someone who shares her name. Marius Trevelyan, Bann of Ostwick.”

Those whispers, rising, a wave crashing now against the windows and walls of the Great Hall in Skyhold. Nearly every place was taken. From his vantage point, Cullen could see the scowls on Kiriya’s companions -- Varric’s and Dorian’s most clearly of all, though Iron Bull’s was not far behind, and Cole just looked quietly _murderous_.

A new voice from the front of the crowd. Unctuous. “Let me speak to my daughter.”

As if by reflex Cullen’s hand moved, fractionally, toward the pommel of his sword.

“Steady,” someone whispered behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. 

Four faces, almost familiar, worn and weary and determined. Varying degrees of fury. White knuckles on joined hands. 

“He cannot hurt us,” Katerinne Trevelyan said, quietly. “He has no power over us.”

“The power is in our hands,” Marya Trevelyan replied. “Our hands, and in _hers_.”

And as if on cue, the doors next to the throne groaned open. A single silhouette in that yawning space, a single shape that resolved into dark hair and dark eyes and scarred olive skin.

Susurrus of surprise. Kiriya in black leather from head to foot -- and Vivienne had recommended that color, somber and startling. A length of black-on-white plaidweave cloth draped from shoulder to hip and pinned in place with a silverite symbol of the Inquisition.

A rustle of soft cloth and a mutter of metal: and Cullen kept his eyes fixed on Kiriya as she sat down carefully upon her throne. As she leaned against the arm of the great chair and cupped her chin in her hand. 

“Rise in my presence,” that same oily voice said. “Have you no respect?”

“Well, you’re talking out of turn in my hold, while you stand among my people,” was Kiriya’s reply. “Who are you to speak of respect?”

Cullen thought that the hall had been cold; now he wanted to grit his teeth. Kiriya’s voice sounded like the false lulling whisper of snow rolling softly down a mountain slope -- the quiet whisper that presaged falling and frost and the oncoming crash of an avalanche.

“I will not be spoken to in this insolent fashion!” the man at the front of the hall cried.

“And neither will I,” Kiriya snapped. “What do you want from me, Bann Trevelyan? What business do you have in these halls? If you seek help against Corypheus and his armies, then you are welcome to present your petitions. If you _offer_ help against those enemies that I have named, then we shall speak of what you can do for us -- ”

“You were _expected_ in Ostwick,” hissed Bann Trevelyan. “Again and again have I written letters summoning you thence. Months have come and gone and not a shadow of your presence nor even a word of your reply! I have been forced hither to see you myself! What insolence is this?”

Again the crowd around Cullen began to whisper, but now he could hear mocking voices. 

And, incredibly, Kiriya smiled. “Oh. I’ve inconvenienced you, have I? Poor man, forced to journey across the Waking Sea. Poor man, forced to journey into the Frostback Mountains. Poor man, forced to join the men and women climbing up to Skyhold! Well, let me congratulate you on how _lucky_ you are.”

She rose to her feet, then, and Cullen tried to hide his smile in the fur of his coat, because she was undoing the straps that held her glove closed.

Her _left-hand_ glove.

And the insipid snow-cowled light of the hall suddenly flashed green, and Kiriya held up her left hand. Bright slashed mark into her hand: the powerful pulse of the Anchor.

“Do you know what this is?” Kiriya asked, stepping down from her dais. “Do you know what this _means_?”

“Simple trickery, base illusions,” Bann Trevelyan began.

As if in response crackling bolts of energy wound around Kiriya’s hand -- and Cullen saw it, clearly, when she flinched and gritted her teeth -- but when she spoke her words were utterly steady. “This means I stood bodily in the Fade and lived to tell the tale. This means that my task is to seek out the rifts in the world and close them. This means demons and red Templars and Venatori swarming after my every step! 

“How lucky you are that you’ve caught me here. The only place where I can rest! The only place where I can be safe! But your presence makes a mockery of that safety.” Kiriya’s voice dropped and, Cullen thought, so did the temperature in the Great Hall. “I’ve read your letters and burned their hateful words away. You would have me judged for, what did your letters say, _filial impiety_? On what grounds? No, don’t answer that, I know you won’t be able to, because it would be your word against mine. There is nothing to be judged there.

“But so as not to waste my time or yours: you made the mistake of walking in here, and between us lies a matter that _would_ be judged.” Kiriya was no longer smiling. “I accuse you, Marius Trevelyan, of raising a hand against your own offspring. I accuse you of abuse and cruelty. And I call forth those who would make this accusation with me. Commander, please escort my sisters forward.”

To the surprised babble of the crowd in the hall Cullen nodded and stepped aside, bowing to the four women standing shoulder to shoulder. 

“I would walk with you, Commander,” Marya said, softly.

Cullen gave her his best courtly smile. “Gladly.”

And he led Kiriya’s four sisters forward.


	4. Chapter 4

“Silence!” And Kiriya smiled as half the assembled crowd in the hall, nobles and soldiers and servants alike, jumped to hear Cassandra’s considerable bellow.

She nodded to Cullen as he drew closer, and smiled at Marya as she came forward on steady feet. The rest of her sisters flanking her, and Cullen and his soldiers withdrawing to where her Inner Circle stood. 

“Are you ready for this?” she asked Marya -- and got a firm nod in return.

So Kiriya said, “I would defer to the Left Hand and to the Right Hand of the Divine in this matter.”

“This is most unorthodox, Inquisitor,” Leliana said in that clear clarion voice of hers. 

“But we will do what we can,” Cassandra added.

“An accusation of abuse -- this is no small or easy discussion,” Leliana said. “Do you have proof?”

“In the flesh.” Marya stepped forward, and pulled down the collar of her modest dress. “These scars were inflicted upon me by that man,” and she pointed to Bann Trevelyan.

Her hand shook, just a little, and Kiriya squeezed her other wrist, trying to offer what comfort she could.

“Lies and _slander_!” was Bann Trevelyan’s blustered response. “How dare you accuse me of such things? _I am your father!_ ”

“You will speak when you are spoken to,” Leliana snapped. “You will have your time to defend yourself. But here we let the victim speak first, and uninterrupted, and _without fear_. Do not make me repeat myself.”

“My sincerest sympathies, Marya Trevelyan,” Cassandra said. “I would ask you to tell us of this matter. Of these grievous wounds. How were you attacked? Why?”

Elisavet stepped forward, and bowed, and spoke. “Some years ago I was serving at a Chantry located on the road to Kirkwall. I received letters from Ostwick that said my sister was on her way: my youngest sister, Kiriya, who was to choose between the Templar Order and the Chantry. A customary practice in my family.

“Kiriya did not stay in my Chantry for very long; she didn’t last a week before she ran away. Several groups were sent out to hunt her -- some from the Templars, and some from Ostwick itself, I learned afterwards.”

“Bann Trevelyan came to me some weeks later,” Marya said, “seeking my sister Kiriya. He thought I was sheltering her. The opposite was true -- I hadn’t known that she’d run away, so how could I be expected to know where she was?” Kiriya watched her close her eyes and look down at her feet. “I tried to be reasonable; I tried to tell him the truth. He did not believe me. That was when he attacked.”

A sob escaped Marya, then, and Kiriya pulled her into her arms, ran a soothing hand up and down her back.

“Let me speak for her,” Katerinne said, hand on the pommel of her sword. At Cassandra’s nod, she said, “After she recovered Marya wrote of this disgraceful and disgusting incident to me, sparing no details. That man whom we accuse -- that man who says he is our father -- he choked her, left her unconscious. Left her for dead. I have letters from Marya’s Chantry brothers and sisters to attest to what happened.” Kiriya watched her hand over a sheaf of parchment.

“You have kept this story quiet for a long time,” Cassandra finally said. Kiriya thought she looked grim.

Marya coughed, and Kiriya let her pull away. Let her stand straight and tall and on her own once again. “I speak of this story now in order to protect my sister Kiriya. To protect the Inquisitor.”

Kiriya caught movement out of the corners of her eyes. Among her companions Varric and Dorian both had their hands on Cole’s shoulders, while Vivienne was staring disdainfully at Bann Trevelyan. On the other side of the hall, several of Cullen’s soldiers were now wearing downright mutinous scowls.

“You believe she needs protecting,” Leliana asked, flatly. 

Nods all around -- not just from her sisters but from many of the men and women standing in the hall. Kiriya blinked, surprised.

And watched as Cassandra strode to Leliana and spoke quietly into her ear.

“I don’t doubt she can protect herself,” Yelena said, after several minutes. “But we -- the four of us here who claim her as family -- we want to protect her, and that not just because of our blood ties. I’ve no doubt those of us in the Inquisition would fight for her, for Kiriya Trevelyan. Some of us have already done so. And all of us will continue to do so.” She swallowed, audibly. “Even if that means we must stand against one of our own blood -- or perhaps especially so. Her life would be in particular danger from Bann Trevelyan. He has already scarred Marya -- he would do the same to Kiriya.”

Even Josephine nodded at that, from her position near one end of the dais.

Kiriya felt her ears getting warm, and couldn’t help but shuffle her feet in silent gratitude.

“That is all we have to say,” Marya said.

Leliana nodded, once. “Then I call upon Marius Trevelyan to speak, and to defend himself, if he can -- ”

“I will not be judged by this _sham_ of an organization! You are heretics, every one of you -- and _you_ ,” Bann Trevelyan growled, pointing a shaking finger at Cassandra and Leliana both, “how can you claim yourselves to be agents of the Divine when the position is unoccupied? Meaning no offense to Most Holy -- but she is gone and so your titles mean _nothing_!”

Oddly, Cassandra _smiled_. “Certainly that’s not so. Were he alive to join us today Grand Chancellor Roderick would speak of a writ that had been issued by Most Holy -- a writ that authorized the reformation of the Inquisition. He would certainly speak of the Inquisitor, were he here. If you wish more recognition you will perhaps have to seek it from the Grand Consensus.”

“That is, _if_ they should have the time to meet with you,” Leliana said. “I understand that they are quite, quite preoccupied at the moment. And right now, all we have heard from are these women, who have given convincing evidence against you. Should you refuse to defend yourself then none will hear your side of the story, and certainly none in this hall will be able to see you as innocent. So you may make a choice, here and now, and we shall see how you will eventually be judged.”

“It is my _right_ to discipline my daughters,” Bann Trevelyan snarled.

“That is not in dispute,” Cassandra snapped. “But to _attack_ them? Here is evidence,” and she waved the letters that Katerinne had passed to her. “Letters from Marya Trevelyan’s fellow clerics. A letter from the Revered Mother of her Chantry! You have called your daughters liars -- would you call these lies as well?”

“They are wrong. They are misguided. I certainly did not leave my daughter for dead -- I sent a healer -- ”

“A healer?” Leliana asked. “You said you disciplined your daughter, no? Then why would such _discipline_ require the presence of a healer? What kind of _discipline_ do you speak of?”

Silence.

Kiriya squeezed Marya’s hands before stepping away. Before moving toward Bann Trevelyan.

Sweat running down his face in smeared rivulets. Whites showing all around his eyes. Gone was the man with the bold words from just a few moments earlier.

“Boss,” and the rumbling voice of Iron Bull made the stones beneath her feet shiver. She threw a smile at him, at her companions.

“Have no fear of me, Bann of Ostwick,” she said. “And heed my words. We both know that you can muster no defense against these accusations. We both know all of Thedas will hear this story and judge all involved. I wonder what they will say of us, of the Inquisition, and of you. I for one am willing to hear those words. Are you?”

She watched Bann Trevelyan’s mouth open, then close, working around words that would not come out of him.

“I can give you something that isn’t a judgement: I can give you a choice,” she said. “Apologize to Marya and to my sisters, or leave Skyhold this instant. Either way, I must ask that you never return, nor send us any messages. Let us just _forget_ each other, blood ties and family names be damned to the Void.”

“You’re too kind -- ” he began, somewhere between blustering and abashed.

Kiriya held up her left hand, and Bann Trevelyan’s mouth clicked shut around. “No. Stop it right there. I am nowhere near kind, not to you. I’m doing this for my sisters. They -- we -- deserve a place to call home. And that kind of place is a place where you either apologized for your past actions -- or a place where you will never be again.”


	5. Chapter 5

Requisitions in Master Dennet’s cramped handwriting, and a set of maps with Scout Harding’s meticulous annotations, and a list of the latest recruits -- Cullen scratched his chin thoughtfully, and reached for the cup of tea that he’d brought up with his daybreak meal. The cup was cold, of course, but the liquid within still smelled soothing and earthy, and he took just enough of a sip to wet his throat before signing off on the list and getting to his feet. Ink drops across the surface of his cluttered desk, and a small heap of coarse breadcrumbs, and he thought briefly about looking for Cassandra and asking her for a quick sparring match -- 

A handful of soldiers and runners talking quietly to each other on the battlements, and the nearest one, a girl with her dark-red hair in twin tails, gave him a sunny smile. “Good morning, Commander.”

“Good morning,” he said. “Take this down to the barracks, please.”

“Commander,” said a new voice, just as he prepared to step back into his office. “A word, if I may.”

He blinked, and almost didn’t recognize the woman speaking. He so rarely saw her out of her armor. Still, he managed to catch the question forming in his throat, and inclined his head respectfully instead. “Katerinne.”

And it _was_ Kiriya’s eldest sister, in a plain buttoned tunic in deep blue, and a black vest decorated with silver embroidery. Black breeches and sturdy boots, and her long sleeves fluttering in the insistent breezes. “I wished to speak to you, in private, before it came time for me to leave,” she said, as he motioned her into the chair set before his desk.

“Leaving us so soon?” Cullen asked. 

“We’ve a week yet before our departure; it will take that long at least for all of the little matters to be dealt with. The Templars and the Chantry and, well, everything else. Not to mention the matter of the ship.” Katerinne made a face. “Unfortunately Marya and I must brave the Waking Sea for a few days, as such would make for a faster trip.”

He nodded, and put his hands behind his back. “At least you’ll have a little more time to spend with Kiriya.”

“And I thank you for speaking of her now,” she said. “I am, as you might guess, not without my misgivings. Namely that I must leave her again, having so recently returned to her side.”

“Ostwick -- another name for duty -- calls,” Cullen said, nodding, sympathy growing in his chest.

“Yes. And while Marya and I dearly regret the necessity of separation from our sisters, we also feel proud -- this way, Kiriya can count on more support from the Free Marches. First Kirkwall, and now Ostwick as well.” Katerinne’s shoulder moved, up and down, briefly. “Might I ask about that? She did not tell me that she had ever made it to Kirkwall; I would have known, otherwise. I might have had a chance to spend time with her.”

Cullen shook his head, both against the question and against the memories. “Ah. No, as far as I know she hasn’t been. But the connection -- well, you might say, that would be Varric Tethras, and myself.”

“Ah, yes, you I remember from there, as I mentioned once,” Katerinne said. “And from Master Tethras, thence to the leaders of the city. I see. Perhaps I will speak with him, as well. There is much that needs doing, if I am to work on Kiriya’s behalf.”

It was his turn to study the lines in her face. “And what of spending time with her now?”

She actually smiled. “Oh, not you too.”

Cullen shook his head again and sat down. “I’ve had the lesson drilled home too many times, you see -- and I won’t ever be sure that the words have stuck.”

“I have to admit, it’s not at all an easy thing, to see the present while still making plans for the future,” Katerinne said. “Perhaps that might be the reason why it’s Marya who’ll be taking over, and not me.”

He blinked at her briefly. “You’re eldest. Logically, you would be first in line for the position of Bann.”

“And so it was written in the letter that we received a few weeks ago. But the five of us talked it over, and in the end it was decided that I would defer to Marya. I am a Templar, Commander, and one who has not precisely risen to any higher ranks. I’m good at following orders, and I have no experience in giving them. I would not gamble the fate of Ostwick on that inexperience.”

A knock on one of the other doors, and then -- “Of _course_ you’re here,” Kiriya said, rolling her eyes. “We’ve nearly scoured the entire bloody keep.”

Katerinne smiled, the lines in her face deepening briefly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I _was_ about to bring up the dinner invitation -- ”

Cullen raised an eyebrow at the sisters. “Dinner invitation?” And he looked at his papers and he looked at the bright amusement in Kiriya’s eyes, and couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

“I’ll help you with the paperwork tomorrow,” Kiriya said. “Will you spend a few hours with us, tonight? There’s a roast joint, and Dorian gave me a few of those bottles he’s been hoarding, and -- well. A small victory is still a victory, isn’t it? Something to celebrate?”

He laughed softly, and crossed the room to kiss the top of Kiriya’s head -- studiously ignoring Katerinne as she rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smirk in her hand -- and said, “Of course I’ll be there -- as long as you don’t ask me to make any toasts. You know I’m rubbish at things like that.”

“You’re only good for inspirational speeches before the end of the world, got it,” Kiriya laughed.

Her hand was warm as it slipped into his.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katerinne’s smirk soften into a smile -- something tinged with melancholy, he thought, and something else that he couldn’t decipher.

Victories, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I am also on [tumblr](http://ninemoons42.tumblr.com/) and my Dragon Age: Inquisition blog is [here](http://ninemoons42-inquisition.tumblr.com/).


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